


head in the clouds (but my gravity’s centered)

by coykoi



Series: you thot we were done? [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Peter Parker is a thot, because there are always feelings with these idiots, but they’re both horny gremlins, don’t be gentle, smut with feelings, who need to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/pseuds/coykoi
Summary: “Don’t leave,” he says, ducking his head, and she knows that if they weren’t in this situation, she’d remain here with him for as long as he’d like.“Give me one reason why I should stay.”“Michelle,” Peter whispers, swallowing thickly, and she steels herself as he inches closer, the sweater twisted in his hands. His expression has always been an open book, but right now, she can’t read a thing.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: you thot we were done? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000515
Comments: 36
Kudos: 100
Collections: Peter Parker's Thotumn 2020





	head in the clouds (but my gravity’s centered)

**Author's Note:**

> 😬

“MJ, please, wait. You—you shouldn’t go out there. The roads are bad, the forecast is worse, and it’s...icy.”

Michelle loosens her grip on the doorknob, knowing that the heavy snow piling against his door is proof in itself that she shouldn’t go outside. But, that doesn’t mean every nerve, every single strand of being inside her isn’t feeling defiant right now.

Twisting her head to look at Peter, she raises an eyebrow, saying, “So, what’s stopping you from just swinging me to my house? Since, you know. You’re Spider-Man.”

“I—I’m not Spider-Man,” he stammers, shaking his head but avoiding her eyes. Such a telltale sign. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m—”

“A male escort, then? I mean, according to Susan Yang,” Michelle says, eyes serious, trying to push down the hurt she feels at the fact that Peter doesn’t trust her. Not enough to tell the truth, at least.

“No, I’m...not a male escort. But I’m not Spider-Man, either.”

Michelle chews the inside of her cheek, biting words at the tip of her tongue. She could bring up the first time he’d ditched her on a date, or even the second—back when they were still testing the waters.

His consistent unreliability was what had Michelle checking out of the possibility of anything more, and she stood by that for years, knowing she deserved better. 

But now they’re here, and Michelle knows the truth—no thanks to Peter, but to the little hints he would carelessly leave behind over the months. It all built up the idea that maybe he wasn’t so much of a flake as he was simply someone with a responsibility—not just to a single person, but to the city.

They’ve been running the question into the ground all week, Michelle wondering why, after all these years of being friends, he hasn’t told her—even if just to save himself the headache of all the lies. Especially now.

Instead, all he’s done is fight her on it.

And Michelle would keep fighting back, but she’s tired.

“If I told you I already know, would you trust me enough to be honest?” she asks after a beat of silence, wondering if this is where their friendship has its limits. And, unfortunately, he has to go and prove her right.

“I’m sorry, MJ. I just...I can’t,” he whispers, looking pained while saying it, as if he has to force himself to admit it, force her to finally hear it.

Michelle merely nods, her lips curving into a half-smile. She’s been preparing for disappointment, but maybe she’s already accepted it far sooner.

“Fair enough.”

They both stand in the foyer, Peter’s hands clenched by his sides as if he’s waiting for her to make a move—any move. And she would, she absolutely would leave if that was the ideal choice for her.

But Michelle knows better than to go outside when New York is supposed to be hit with six more inches of snow by nightfall. So, she drops her bag on the ground and it lands with a clang.

“Do you want me to make you something? Tea?” Peter asks, and his voice is soft, tentative, but she’s not so easily won over with a drink as a truce. He must sense that, leaving for the kitchen before she even gets a word out. 

Michelle sighs, her head hitting the back of the door as she stands there, emotions in a whirlwind. She’s still having a hard time wrapping her mind around what just happened, what’s going to happen now that the base of their friendship has crumbled.

Tucking her arms around herself, more so due to the lack of heat in the house rather than comfort, she exhales quietly. It’s freezing inside, the heater having been broken since the summer of last year.

Against her better judgement, Michelle shuffles into the kitchen, finding Peter bent over a pot of boiling water.

“I think I’ll take that tea after all. It’s frigid in here, Parker,” she tells him, rubbing her hands together, and he turns to look at her. Apologetic, earnest, his emotions are starting to bleed together in her eyes.

“Do you want a sweater?”

Michelle is about to shake her head, knowing she could suck it up and not make an awkward situation even worse, but for once, her comfort is taking priority and she nods.

Peter, despite everything, has been her best friend for longer than she can remember, and she’s used to borrowing his clothes, jackets, and even the ugly Spider-Man socks he’s had stashed in his bottom drawer. She still has those but doesn’t doubt she’ll be giving them back.

Following him up the stairs and into his bedroom, Michelle lingers by the doorway and watches as he rifles through his drawers for something she can wear. They’re the same size, she’ll fit into anything of his.

Peter brings out a sweater, one that she had gotten him for Christmas a year ago, and he holds it out to her. A peace offering, his eyes would read if she were to look, but she doesn’t.

Wordlessly, she takes it. The soft cashmere between her fingers reminds Michelle of long hugs, the comfort of his arms. Reminds her simply of Peter. She doesn’t know if she can wear it now, not when she’s still hurting after his admission, or lack thereof.

“Peter,” Michelle begins, outstretching a hand to reject the offering. “I think I’m...I’m just going to go.”

And when his face falls, it’s even further proof that she shouldn’t stay. What right does he have to look at her like that, as if she’s the one breaking his heart. 

Michelle doesn’t know where her strength lies, not after years of it being broken down and built back up again, but she can say with utmost certainty that Peter Parker is one of her weaknesses.

“Don’t leave,” he says, ducking his head, and she knows that if they weren’t in this situation, she’d remain here with him for as long as he’d like.

“Give me one reason why I should stay.”

“Michelle,” Peter whispers, swallowing thickly, and she steels herself as he inches closer, the sweater twisted in his hands. His expression has always been an open book, but right now, she can’t read a thing. “Michelle, I’m…”

The word _sorry_ becomes nothing more than a whisper as Peter leans closer, tilting up ever so slightly to press his lips against hers. She’ll never know whether the apology was for the kiss or for everything but.

Cautiously, despite any common sense, Michelle kisses him back, her tongue slipping into his mouth with ease. She can feel the way his fingers tug lightly at her hair, holding her steady but she’s still shaky on her feet.

The sweater is abandoned on the floor, but Peter must know this is just as effective a way to warm her up. His lips start trailing down her neck, sucking and peppering kisses against the smooth of her skin.

“Peter,” Michelle utters, letting her eyes flutter shut, but then he pauses and they’re suddenly too far away.

“Is...this okay? I can stop if you don’t…” He trails off, his lips swollen and face flustered when she opens her eyes again. 

“Don’t,” she exhales, granting herself and only herself a reprieve from the muddy waters that is their turmoil, and eliminates the space between them once again. His eyes are wide and hopeful as they track her. “Don’t stop.”

Michelle initiates the kiss this time, feeling his hands travel underneath her t-shirt, the flat of his palm bringing her closer. She becomes painfully aware of her own ragged breathing when his teeth start dragging lightly against the column of her neck, all the way down to her collarbone. 

“God, Em,” Peter mutters against her skin, pressing insistent kisses around the base of her neck, and then he’s rolling his hips against hers, almost leisurely. She bites back a groan, letting her head fall back before her body does, now draped across his bed. “You look so beautiful.”

“Fuck, Peter,” she gasps as his hands start to travel, his teeth biting around the lobe of her ear.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything.”

“I want you to touch me,” Michelle manages to say, trembling from the way his hand finds where her legs meet. Her breathing is sporadic as he begins unbuttoning her pants, almost too slowly. She’s waiting and wanting, doesn’t have the patience for him not to start fucking her with his fingers.

“You’re so wet.” His voice is low as he slides a palm into her panties, a single finger into her, but it’s not enough and she hates that she wants more of him.

“Peter,” she bites out, but he doesn’t listen, working yet another finger into her. There’s heat in her cheeks and not even the frigid air of the apartment can temper it. “Peter, please.”

Peter silences her with a kiss, soft and tender, and she can’t handle it right now. Especially not as he works his way further in, the bed shaking as he anchors himself to her, hand in hand.

His lips place indulgent kisses across her body, but all Michelle can think about is how he needs to be faster.

“Michelle,” he breathes into her neck, lavishing her with affection and words she cannot make out. With his fingers lodged inside her, she’s left whimpering. “Like this?”

“More,” Michelle orders, and it’s almost a challenge. She loves it—loves challenging him. “Don’t be gentle.”

“With you, I can’t help it,” Peter groans, long and low in her ear, yet he heeds her command with vigor—enough to have her hips bucking. Her hands find his hair, and she pulls roughly, his curls tightly wrapped around her fingers.

But then, just as she’s coming close, he rips his dripping fingers out of her, and she’s left unfulfilled—nothing peaking but her annoyance.

“Parker, I swear to god—”

Michelle never gets the chance to finish her sentence, him merely shaking his head before ducking between her legs. It doesn’t take more than a second for her to feel his tongue moving freely around her entrance, and she releases a breathy moan.

His fingers dip back in, and with the addition of his tongue around her clit, she can feel herself getting closer, closer, until finally she’s left with the feeling of ecstasy that sends her over the edge—that has her toes curling and fingers grasping loosely at the sheets.

Peter pulls away, his breathing ragged and in sync with hers. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, their eyes meeting, and she gives him a questioning look. He understands and even so, he shakes his head no.

“I wanted to do it for you,” he tells her softly.

Michelle swallows thickly and pushes away all of the conflicted thoughts that have started returning to her mind, gesturing for him to lay next to her instead. And, despite his hesitant expression, he does so.

“Why?” she asks quietly, and there are so many interpretations to her simple question, but he counters with an answer that only offers one.

“The same reason I can’t tell you the truth,” Peter admits, and she’s seen this expression of his before, but it’s so much more open right now. “You know I would do anything for you.”

Michelle can feel her heart beating in her head, and when she closes her eyes, all she can hear is his words on a loop. 

_I would do anything for you._

_Anything but let you in._

Maybe he has a good reason, or maybe she’s overreacting, but when it comes down to it, Michelle knows that she was bound to let Peter in before he would let her.

There isn’t much left for her to offer in the way of words right now—isn’t much of anything to offer at all—so she does the only thing she can think of and leaves a gentle kiss against his lips. 

Even still, Peter melts into it as if she’s granting him a gift, and she has to wonder how deeply their emotions are intertwined with each other.

Michelle knows that she could still leave, that Peter hadn’t outright given her a reason to stay, but finding him looking at her like the way he is now, she figures she can give him a little more time.  
  


* * *

  
When looking back at that evening, Michelle knows she should’ve hoped for the best and expected the worst. Not having especially high expectations but still expectations nonetheless.

The remainder of their night had been a nice one, with the way Peter had draped her in his sweater and smothered the occasional kiss in her curls during the night as they watched TV together. It was enough for her.

As much as she hates to admit it to herself, while Peter was the sole reason she’d wanted to pack up and leave his home, he’s also the sole reason she stayed. Nothing to do with the weather or the time. 

She stayed because of him.

The least he could’ve done was the same.

To say that she was not surprised is an understatement, but to say that she wasn’t hurt is an outright lie.

Waking up to cold air where his arms had been, to cold sheets where his body had laid, Michelle had sat up and found that the bedroom window was left open. No note was left behind, but what would it have said, anyway.

Maybe Peter was expecting her to still be asleep when he returned, or maybe he thought she would at least wait to see him crawl right back through that window, Spider-Man get-up and all.

But Michelle was tired of being the one left waiting, the one left disappointed, a cycle in their friendship that won’t break unless _he_ breaks it. 

Michelle hadn’t hesitated slipping out of his bed, gathering her things despite it being nearly three in the morning.

Snow was blowing through his open window, and maybe that could’ve been a sign that she should stay put—just to see what could’ve been—but sometimes leaving is the better option.

And when she departed, Michelle pushed back the idea that he’d be coming back to an empty home, just as she had woken up to, and pulled herself away from the regret that came with it.

Because when it comes down to it, Peter had never given her a real reason to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter and tumblr @coykoii :P


End file.
